


The Wedding Night

by Astrageneia



Category: Pride and Prejudice & Related Fandoms, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (2016)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff, Love, Short One Shot, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 00:38:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13201974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astrageneia/pseuds/Astrageneia
Summary: While Elizabeth is skilled in the martial arts, she is less certain about the marital ones.





	The Wedding Night

The happiest day of Elizabeth Bennet’s life quickly devolved into one of the worst. She lost count of the hours it took for them to beat back Wickham’s advancing hordes. But, thanks to the tireless work of the Black Guard and some of Lady Catherine’s more inventive fortifications around Rosings, the day was theirs. For now, at any rate. Wickham still proved frustratingly difficult to kill, he had come within reach of her blade and Darcy’s several times during the fray and yet still managed to escape. She smiled faintly, remembering how well they’d fought together, how natural it felt to have him at her side.

The world blurred for a moment and she swayed, legs unsteady as the exhaustion caught up with her. The clean up was all but done, and Lady Catherine herself had released her from the field with words of high praise. With the adrenaline fading, she found it increasingly hard to keep her eyes open. She steadied herself for a moment on a nearby banister, breathing deeply. When she had regained her composure, she looked up to see her husband striding toward her, face full of concern.

Her husband. The thought was still quite strange. Tendrils of heat crept through her, cutting through the fog, as she remembered how passionately and unashamedly he’d kissed her in front of the whole assembly.

“Are you well, Elizabeth?” He looked as tired as she felt.

“Merely tired. I shall be quite well after a meal and a rest.” Suddenly self conscious, she smoothed the folds of her utterly ruined and gore stained gown.

“It would do us both a world of good, I am sure,” he said, offering her his arm. She took it, and started to move toward the east wing, where she had stayed with her sisters the night before. He paused, the muscles beneath her hand stiffening. She looked at him, alarmed. His face was carefully composed, revealing little, as he said, “Of course, after today’s events, you would wish to postpone the, ah… the wedding night.”

“Oh! Oh, no, Mr. Darcy-Fitzwilliam, I…” How could she have been so stupid? “Forgive me, my dearest, it has been the longest of days, and I do not know where you are lodged, and-”

He smiled, then, and it took her breath away, as she had seen that smile so rarely. “I am pleased to hear it.”

She clutched his arm tightly as they started for the stairs, stomach fluttering as much with anticipation as with a sudden fear. Her mother may have been bound and determined that Elizabeth should someday marry and make a good wife, she had been rather unspecific as to the details of certain marital duties. The basic mechanics were easily graspable from a visit to any farmyard, but the subject had never really captured her interest until recently.

They stopped for a moment at the bottom of a long flight of stairs. “I had dreams of carrying you up these stairs, after our wedding,” he said, very quietly.

“Another day, my darling,” she said, feeling the tremble of fatigue in his arm. He did not answer, and they ascended the stairs, supporting each other as they went. She had never been in this wing of Rosings, and the hallway stretched out before her, imposing portraits of Darcy’s family staring down at her. He lead her past all of them, stopping at an ornately carved door, which a servant opened for them.

“This tradition we will keep.” He swept her into his arms, carrying her across the threshold. He set her down gently, but did not let her go. They stood there for a long moment, gazing into each other’s eyes. The anticipation was exquisite, and she was about to close the distance between them when there was a knock at the door. Servants bustled into the room, bringing with them basins of water and towels. They separated quickly at the intrusion. A mirror and vanity had been set up on one side of the room, clearly in preparation for her presence. She went to it, grateful for a chance to remove some of the grime and sweat of the day’s work. The mirror afforded her the ability to sneak glances at her husband, as he dealt with a small stream of messengers with his customary terseness. A maid brushed out her hair for her, but no one moved to help her take off her dress. She was grateful for this, as she had no desire to be undressed in a room full of strangers. She found herself thinking of Jane, somewhere in another, facing a similar scene. Lost in her thoughts, she slowly became aware that they were alone again, and in the mirror she could see her husband fiddling with his cravat, tired fingers apparently having trouble with the knot. 

Elizabeth rose and went to him, placing her hands over his. Obediently, he dropped his hands and tilted his head back, allowing her to untie it for him. When she had done so, he stood, and gently turned her to face away from him, and he began to undo the buttons of her dress, gently slipping it from her shoulders. He held her hand as she stepped out of its voluminous folds, then repositioned her in front of his mirror as he began to undo the laces of her corset grommet by grommet, dividing his focus between his work and checking in with her. The corset soon fell away. She trembled, though now it was not due to weariness. He kissed her neck gently as he took the collar of her chemise in hand and began to pull it down over her shoulder.

There was another knock at the door, and had the servant not been bringing in a plate of food that smelled rather like heaven, she had the feeling they both would have threatened the poor man with violence. The moment broken, she blushed and moved behind a screen to hide her immodesty. 

“It is safe to come out now,” Darcy said, with a hint of amusement. She smacked his shoulder as she passed in retort, too tired to come up with a rejoinder. He chuckled. They sat at the table and ate in companionable silence, ravenous hunger overriding the dictates of society.

Dinner done, Darcy rang for a servant to clear the dishes, giving her enough warning so she could slip back behind a screen until they were alone. He was removing his boots when she reemerged. She made no move to help him this time as he unbuttoned his waistcoat. He was blowing out candles as he undressed, until the only light in the room was a low burning fireplace. Blushing, she looked away as he undid his breeches and took them off. When she had enough courage to look back, he was wearing only a long shirt that covered him to mid-thigh.

“Elizabeth. Come to bed.” He held his hand out to her, and she took it as he threw the covers back for them. She crawled into bed and he slipped in after her, drawing the covers over both of them. He drew her in close to him, burying his hand in her hair. The warmth, the comfort, the closeness washed over her, and she struggled to stay awake. It was only when she realized that his breathing had settled into the deep, easy rhythm of sleep that she, too, allowed herself to drift off.

*

She woke slowly, bruises and aches from the previous day's exertions making themselves known as soon as soon as she shifted. Stretching, her hand encountered flesh and she froze. She'd shared a bed with her sisters all of her life, but this was different. Darcy stirred but did not wake. His hand closed over hers, pulling it to rest against his sternum, were the deep cut of his shirt gave way to flesh. The hair on his chest prickled against her skin, and she found herself longing to play with it. Sleep smoothed out the lines and worry in her husband's face. He looked young. Beautiful. Something deep within her stirred, and it took every ounce of her considerable self control not to wake him. 

As if responding to her desire, his eyes flickered open, and he looked about to speak. She stopped him with a kiss, hungry, demanding. To her shock and dismay, she found him pulling away.

His look was dark. “I fear I have failed you as a husband, I should never have fallen asle-”

“And for that, will you now so cruelly reject me?”

“I- no. I did not mean…”

“I care not for the time of day or the traditions, or even, Fitz, your pride. I wish for the full rites of my wedding night from my loving husband.”

One of the rare smiles, which she had so rarely seen, stretched across his lips and he pulled her close. “And I shall oblige.”

His lips and gentle, trailing touches over the fabric of her nightgown brought with them a spikes of desire, tempered somewhat by quiet fears, for all her earlier insistence. What was she to do with her hands? She wanted to pull the shirt from his back, but should she? Elizabeth cursed this sudden reappearance of maiden modesty.

His hand flickered lower, and a soft moan escaped from her lips, unbidden, and the blush that came to her cheeks was equal parts embarrassment and desire. He paused for a moment, gazing deeply into her eyes, as if assessing her willingness to continue. Blushing even harder, she determinedly reached over and pulled the nightshirt over his head.

Her world dissolved into sensation. Sighs and moans, whispered declarations and muffled oaths. Pleasure, with inklings of something deeper that she longed to follow. It was not painful, exactly, but strange. But her bliss built, coming in waves, her desire feeding his, his feeding hers, until they finally collapsed together in a panting, sweaty tangle of limbs.

“Did that please you, my loving wife?”

“I think it was an excellent start.”


End file.
